


Something New

by EmmyDrakon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyDrakon/pseuds/EmmyDrakon
Summary: This is the story of the MCU told from the eyes of my original character. I own Marilyn's story and nothing else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of the MCU told from the eyes of my original character. I own Marilyn's story and nothing else.

With a sigh, Marilyn Johnston straightened from wiping down a particularly grungy table. Hours of practice allowed her to hoist the loaded circular tray to shoulder level as she quickly surveyed the lobby area. Good. Last one for a few minutes. During the day, she worked as a waitress at a quaint corner café in New York. But by night, she was a stylish club singer – one of the more tasteful performers in the business. Working the two jobs was exhausting, but it was a necessary evil.  
The doorbell jingled. She turned from her trek back to the kitchen to glance over her shoulder at the newcomers.  
A tall, well-built young man with dark hair and a mischievous bad-boy smirk that would make any girl melt sauntered over two a corner booth, followed by a drastically different character. Another young man slid into the booth across from his counterpart, this one blonde and extraordinarily small and thin. His clothes looked slightly too big on his delicate frame. The sight of the two made her smile, a bright, genuine smile that, unbeknownst to her, lightened the hearts of everyone in the room.  
The taller man grinned and waved with a wink. Marilyn gave him a dismissive roll of her eyes before she vanished into the kitchen. Reemerging a couple minutes later, she quickly made her way to their table, skillfully cutting off the other waitress, who had made a beeline for the table as soon as she recognized a tall, handsome, soldier-type. As she approached the pair, they both stood to greet her, grinning in welcome.  
“Steve! It’s so good to see you!” Marilyn enthusiastically embraced the smaller man, who shyly squeezed her back. “I haven’t seen you lately! How have you been?”  
Steve stifled a chuckle at the dramatically forlorn look on Bucky’s face and the pointed way Marilyn was ignoring him. They had been playing this game for a year now, ever since they had reunited and Bucky had decided she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he absolutely had to get her attention in a more-than-a-sister way.  
The little trio had been inseparable in childhood. Each had their own personal tragedies that served to bring them even closer together. But as they grew, they drifted. Neither of the men had seen their playmate for years. But one sunny afternoon, the two had stepped through the doors of their favorite cafe to find a new waitress wiping cups behind the counter. One with dark curled hair, unusually green eyes, modest curves, and a contagious smile. Marilyn had morphed from the strong, independent little girl they had known and played with into a graceful, gorgeous young woman. For Steve, little had changed, except for her appearance, which he found extremely intimidating at first. Soon, though, it was if they had never separated. But for Bucky, it was a transformation into an angelic creature whose species he’d never seen before.  
Finally, Bucky’s pouting caught her attention. “And it’s wonderful to see you too, Bucky.” Giggling, she slipped into his embrace, squeezing him around his waist.  
Only Steve saw his cocky demeanor melt into a soft, exultant smile as he gently squeezed her, then lifted her off the ground, chuckling at her squeak of surprise. “Missed ya, doll.”  
Marilyn carefully extracted herself and smacked him on the arm. “Alright Barnes, that was for the pet name. Keep it up and you’re going hungry.”  
Bucky dropped into the booth with a huff, lounging, lolling his head back and ruffling his hair in a way that was irresistible to every other girl in New York. For Marilyn… He tested her boundaries. He really did.  
“Alright, you two, what’ll it be?” She fished out her notepad and flipped to a clean page, dropping her weight onto one hip, cocking it out endearingly.  
Steve ordered and, once he was done staring, Bucky did too.  
“Coming right up.”  
________________________________________

The war had been going on for ages. Marilyn didn’t bother to remember how long. But it got harder and harder to keep her chin up with a smile on her face. The men were streaming out of America to go fight, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the dreadful conflict claimed her only two friends in the world. Enlisting was all Steve talked about. He was obsessed. Bucky was quiet. The absence of his usual sarcasm and charm whenever the topic arose spoke volumes. And her greatest fear was confirmed when, on a soggy Brooklyn afternoon, James Buchannan Barnes stepped into her little café in full uniform and regalia. He enlisted, that bastard… He’s leaving.  
This time, there was no race to the little corner booth. Her flirtatious coworker fawned and swooned, eyelashes all a-flutter. Only when she swayed through the kitchen doors did Marilyn step out from behind the counter, remove her apron, and approach the table.  
As usual, Bucky stood as she neared, this time with his heels together and his hat tucked under his arm. Marilyn stopped a few feet away, gazing into his eyes. She tried to memorize the lovely shade of blue they were, and the way they crinkled up at the corners when he smiled.  
They just stood there, gazing longingly across the void. The silence felt shattered when Marilyn called back into the kitchen, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Joe, gonna step out a tick. Back in a jiff.” Without another word she walked out the front door, followed by Bucky. She turned down an alley that ran behind the store, then stopped and turned to face him.  
His sad little smile made her heart break.  
“When?”  
His voice was a gentle rumble across a sea. “First thing tomorrow.”  
She nodded mutely.  
“You knew?”  
“I guessed.” Her resolve was weakening. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” She chuckled brokenly.  
He nodded slowly, then opened his arms to her.  
Without a second thought she flew into his arms, clinging to him as a lifeline, inhaling his musky scent, dry-eyed. His strong arms supported her back as he buried his face in her hair.  
They stayed like that for a long while. Neither wanted to let go first. They knew what that would mean – they most likely would never see each other again.  
Bucky broke the silence with a whispered mumble. “I’m sorry.”  
“I understand,” Marilyn whispered back. And she did. If he had told her, she would’ve pulled away. This moment would have been long, agonizing, and drawn out. Though, compared to the pain she was feeling right then, she didn’t know how that could’ve been any better.  
“Write me?” His breathy request was almost inaudible.  
“Promise.”  
With that, they slowly separated. Bucky backed away reluctantly. Marilyn stood rooted. Neither wanted to tear their eyes away. They didn’t want to surrender; they couldn’t let this moment end.  
Every unspoken apology, agreement, and emotion of over twenty years passed through the air at that moment.  
Then he was gone.  
Marilyn stood in that empty, dirty alley for a long time, then went silently back inside. Joe sent her home for the rest of the day.  
And her eyes were still bone-dry.

Barely a week later, the war took Steve away too. Marilyn didn’t have the faintest clue how he’d managed to enlist, but he did it. And he was gone. Bucky wrote as often as he could, and Marilyn responded with equal consistency. But it did very little to fill the hole in her heart. She was lonely. The dynamic duo were all she’d had. So there was nothing left holding her back.  
“Name?”  
“Marilyn Johnston.”  
The sharp old nurse on the other side of the desk slammed a stamp into the file in front of her, then passed it across. “Welcome to your field training, Miss Johnston.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the fray

“Marilyn!! We’ve got incoming!!”  
Kicking up dust, Marilyn ran across the military encampment to the medical tent in time to see healthy soldiers unloading one of the ambulances. Their base was one of the few with well-trained female nurses on call. Most other camps had male combat medics, many of which had gone down under enemy fire.  
Taking a breath, she steadied her heart rate and steeled herself before entering the fray. The next hour was a blur of blood, gauze, and the pained moans of injured soldiers.  
When she finally had a moment, Marilyn was scrubbing the combined blood of a dozen men from her hands. Someone was behind her.  
It was one of the other nurses. “Marilyn? Just one more to tend to. Some minor bumps and bruises, but he might need stitches.”  
“I’m on my way, Nancy.” She flicked the water from her hands and straightened her white uniform underneath the blood-stained apron. With quick, brisk steps she made her way to her newest patient’s bedside, mechanically arranging her supplies and assessing the wounds.  
“Marilyn?”  
A familiar, rumbling male voice spoke her name in disbelief. She froze, set the instruments carefully down on the tray, and looked up-  
Into a pair of somber, sparkling blue eyes.  
“James?”  
The familiar grin returned, topping broad, well-muscled shoulder and arms accented by a sleeveless wife-beater. It melted her all-business demeanor. “Well, I was looking forward to a pretty girl in uniform, but didn’t I just hit the jackpot.” The smile vanished as quickly as it came. “What the hell are you doing here, Mar? This is just about the most dangerous damn thing you could’ve done!”  
Marilyn picked up a sterilized swab to busy her shaking hands. “I know, but I was one of the few who would do it. Someone’s gotta watch your sorry ass.”  
He chuckled softly, then hissed as she began to clean his wounds. They were fairly minor, except for a deep cut on his right upper arm. “Aaahh… Be a little rougher, why don’t you.”  
She shot him a glare, unable to stop the smile creasing her cheeks. “I’ll have you strapped to the bed if you don’t stop squirming like a child getting his ears checked.”  
Cooperatively, he stilled, watching her eyes as she worked. The cut on his arm required stitches, and he bore the pain stoically with an occasional grunt. Suddenly, a wet droplet joined the dressing on his dirty skin. Looking closer, he realized what it was.  
Sparkling tears slid down her cheeks. She furiously blinked them away as she strove to work, but more took the place of their fallen comrades.  
Bucky lifted his free hand as she fastened a light dressing in place and cupped her cheek, brushing away a single tear with one rough thumb. His voice was quiet and breathy, but calm. “You never cried, did you. When I left.”  
Helplessly, Marilyn dropped her tools and looked up at him, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered. “I couldn’t… I didn’t….”  
Without another word, Bucky pulled her onto the bed and into his filthy, grimy arms. Uncaring, Marilyn leaned into him and cried.  
Just cried.

Weeks passed in the military camp. Squads of men from the regiment would be sent out, recalled, and sent out again. Each time they came back just a little bit smaller. The soldiers did their best to keep morale up, but it was getting harder and harder to smile and wave.  
Marilyn spent most of her time in the medical tent, with its crudely sectioned cloth rooms, or her own sleeping quarters. It was obvious the men hadn’t seen a woman in a while, so she thought it best to stay out of their way.  
Bucky was practically glued to her side during these days. If he wasn’t out on assignment, he was fetching and carrying for her in the medical tent or sitting on the edge of her cot, swapping stories and half-hearted jokes. It was a huge comfort to have his strong, familiar presence hovering near.  
Straightening her nurse’s cap, Marilyn marched briskly across the camp from her tent. Bucky’s squadron was out on a recon mission, and they were due back any moment. And there would surely be casualties.  
As usual, catcalls and whistles erupted in her wake. The soldiers teased all the nurses this way, but Marilyn seemed to have become their special project. She was one of three young nurses in the camp, but she was the only one who hadn’t caved to “comforting the poor, tired warriors”. But today was different. A big, hulking figure of a man stepped out in front her. She was forced to stop.  
“Where you headed, pretty little thing?”  
“Same place I always am.”  
“Why don’t you take a break?”  
“Because someone has to keep your sorry ass alive.”  
He chuckled and stepped closer, letting one big, ham-fisted paw drift toward her bare forearm.  
She stepped back. “We’ve had this discussion, soldier.”  
“Have we?” Closer. Too close. One hand was firmly on her shoulder, and the other slid roughly around her waist.  
“Don’t.”  
His grin was wolfish, hungry. “Make me.” The glint in his eyes told her that was exactly what she was going to have to do.  
In an instant, she had peeled his giant mitt from her shoulder, grabbing the pinky side of his hand from the top and twisting his inflexible wrist over. She pushed hard on the locked joint and immediately sent the giant man to his knees, shouting profanities. With a quick, half-power knee she broke his nose and released his hand. David now stood over her Goliath, who sprawled on his back in the dust, holding his nose with blood running profusely through his fingers and swears running from his lips.  
“Shouldn’t talk to a lady like that, soldier.”  
Marilyn felt a smaller, warm hand press into her middle back. But the voice soothed her fears.  
Sergeant James Barnes had appeared at her side, just in time to make his usual smart-ass comment.  
“Get your ass up outta that dirt, soldier. Go clean yourself off.”  
Glaring and mumbling, the man scrambled to his feet and stomped off.  
Marilyn sighed, relaxing and allowing herself to lean into Bucky’s side. His arm went around her as he grinned.  
“Miss me, doll?”  
With a sigh of exasperation, she pinched him in the side, making his yelp. “Moment ruined, Barnes. I was savoring my victory.”  
He barked a laugh, giving her a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s get you out of sight and out of mind.”  
She made to pull away. “I need to report to medical-“   
Bucky tugged her back by her hand. “No, you don’t. We’re all fine.”  
After a moment of staring across the camp, she relented. “Fine.” Smiling tiredly, she let herself be led to her shared quarters with the other nurses. As usual, none of the other girls were in. Bucky dropped himself on her cot and stretched out, putting his hands behind his head.   
Marilyn glared playfully. “You better have showered before dropping your filthy self all over my bed.”  
He grinned, radiating innocence. “I’m offended, Mar. You think so little of me.”  
Rolling her eyes, Marilyn dropped her cap on the little side table and kicked off her shoes. With a wave of her hand, she wordlessly ordered Bucky to scoot over, to which he complied. Sighing, she settled onto the hard cot, curling toward him and resting her head on the crook of his shoulder. They stayed that way for an hour, as was their custom, merely enjoying the other’s presence until one duty or the other called them away.  
There, in that moment, Marilyn Johnston was content.

__________________________________________

The camp was buzzing with activity. Men were running and shouting, carrying and loading their weapons. The nurses scurried back and forth, prepping medical supplies and whispering nervously. As Marilyn was packing the field kit, she heard someone step up behind her.  
“Nurse Johnston.” A stern, male voice grated against her ears.  
She turned quickly, clasping her hands loosely behind her back. “General, sir.”  
“I’ve heard you have some fighting experience.”  
Uh oh… “Yes sir, I have.”  
“Can you shoot?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Pack your bags. You’re tagging along on this one.”  
Speechlessly, Marilyn scurried quickly after the general’s long determined strides. He rattled off the rules of the battlefield, barely giving her time to absorb it all. She was given a new uniform to wear. It was similar to the men’s with thick cloth trousers, a sleeveless undershirt, and a big thick jacket over it with lace up boots, a big belt, and a helmet. She tied her hair up tightly underneath the uncomfortable metal cap. She heaved the medical kit up onto her back, adjusting the straps with ease, then reported to the general.   
He placed a small handgun and extra ammo into her hands. “To be used only when necessary.”  
“Yes sir.”  
Two hours later, the entire regiment had broken camp and marched off to battle. For many of them, it was to their deaths.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wasn't the only one HYDRA got to

It was dark. Her head was pounding. Not a good sign. Without opening her eyes, Marilyn shifted on the hard floor to gingerly probe the most painful area with her fingertips. No blood, just a bump. Good.  
“Mar?? Hey, Mar! C’mon, doll, open your eyes. Mar??”  
A voice was calling to her, somewhere nearby. A man’s voice. … Bucky? With a groan, she forced her eyes open and slowly uncurled from her uncomfortable position. “Mmm… Bucky?”  
A vehement sigh of relief sounded to her left. “God, girl, don’t scare me like that. You ok?”  
Marilyn sat up, closing her eyes against the increased pain and twinge of nausea. “I- I think so… My head…” She lifted her hands to her face, massaging her temples then rubbing her eyes. Her uniform had been stripped, leaving her in a simple, sleeveless undershirt and her thick trousers. Her feet, arms, and hands were bare, and her hair was falling limply out of its restraints.  
“Over here. Look at me, doll.”  
“You know how I feel about your little pet names, Barnes.” Her usual snap was dulled into a quiet murmur with just a hint of a growl.   
“Yeah, I know. Just look at me.”  
Carefully, she turned her head to the left, seeing for the first time where she had awoken.  
Bucky knelt near her, leaning against the bars that separated them. Bars?? More men, all soldiers sat or stood around and behind him, all dirty and some injured. Suppressing panic, Marilyn cast her eyes around her, shifting where she sat. She was surrounded by a thick, powerful cage. A walkway stretched away to either side just outside her prison. As far as she could see, more circular cages stood on both sides of the walkway, all filled with men.  
She struggled to keep her voice level, but it came out as a pitchy whisper. “Bucky. What’s going on?”  
His usual cocky smirk was gone. In its place was a thin, forced smile. He reached a dirty hand through the bars. “C’mere.”  
She crawled to him, doing her best not to jostle her aching head. Once in reach, she latched onto his hand, leaning up against the bars, trying to get as close to him as she could. “Where are we? What’s going on?” she whispered.  
“I don’t know, Mar. Hydra took us, took almost the whole regiment. Some of the other prisoners are saying we’re here to work, to build weapons or something. Every once in a while, they take one or two guys, then drag ‘em off down that way.” He nodded to indicate the direction. “Those poor sods never come back.”  
Marilyn bit her lip and closed her eyes against the panicked tears that threatened her. She took a breath, then relaxed, suddenly all business. “Alright. Who’s injured?”  
For the next couple of hours, she quietly tended the wounded the best she could through the bars of her cage, or relayed instructions on how to care for the men in farther units. All the while, Bucky stayed as close as he could.  
Clang! Clang!  
The sound of metal on metal caused everyone to shrink to the backs of the cages. Two Hydra soldiers marched slowly down the line of cages, both sporting large metal batons, escorting a small, portly man with thinning hair and thick, round glasses. They stopped in front of Bucky’s cage. The little man seemed to inspect the occupants as they sat and stared defiantly out at him. “No, no, none of these.” His accent was thick and very German, but with a hint of something else. The trio walked on, and stopped in front of Marilyn’s cage.  
She shrunk back in the corner, trying to stay as close to the soldiers as she could without getting them in trouble. She could see Bucky tensing and shooting worried glances her way.  
The man looked her up and down with a hint of confusion. “A woman? Is this not one of their nurses? Why is she here? She is of no use to me or Herr Schmidt.”  
One of the soldiers replied. “The unit cornered her and two others in the medical tent. This one took out three of our soldiers with a small hand gun and a scalpel before she was apprehended. She showed unusual strength and ability, therefore she was taken alive as an option in your research, Dr. Zola.”  
Bucky and a few of the other soldiers gave her winks and proud looks. By the shock and pride in their faces, they hadn’t heard that story yet. Marilyn managed to give them a wink back. But their victory was soon squashed. Dr. Zola seemed to have taken a renewed interest in her.  
“Really? A woman, resilient and already with some ability on the battlefield… Women are scientifically more flexible than the men. More adaptable…” His muttering trailed off as he seemed to debate and calculate, all without taking his eyes off her.  
Bucky shifted closer to her.  
Dr. Zola lifted his head with an air of finality. “Very well. This will be a fascinating experiment. Seize her.”   
Marilyn’s eyes shot wide open as the two soldiers opened her cell and advanced on her.  
“No!” Bucky shouted.  
The nurse scrambled to her feet, trying desperately to evade them. But the enclosed space worked to their advantage. They latched onto her upper arms, one on either side, and slammed her against the back bars of the cell while she screamed and thrashed.  
Bucky was on his feet, helplessly shouting and beating at the bars. She turned her head to face him, her frightened eyes quickly finding his.  
Her struggling subsided slightly. She panted, keeping her gaze desperately locked onto his. She could hear soft footsteps advancing into her cell.  
“Hold her still, please, gentlemen. And if you will please clear the injection site.”  
Ripping echoed through the cellblock as the soldiers tore open the back of her simple shirt. Bucky’s eyes held horror, and his knuckles tightened around the bars. Marilyn squeezed her eyes shut against what she was certain would follow. Suddenly, a sharp, shooting pain erupted from between her shoulder blades. She bit back a shriek, muffling it into a tortured, high-pitched groan. The needle was forced in farther, grinding against bone, tearing through muscle.  
She screamed. Her vision was tunneling. After time unknown, the needle was removed and she was allowed to fall to the floor.  
“Well, Miss Subject 24B, I will be seeing you tomorrow. Come, gentlemen. We shall see if she survives the next 24 hours.” With that, they were gone, their echoing footsteps fading into the distance.  
“Mar?? C’mon Mar, talk to me!” Bucky sounded frantic.  
With a strangled groan, Marilyn forced her eyes open once again and struggled to roll to face him. Bucky had dropped to his knees beside her.  
“Oh my God… What have they done to you?”  
Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air. She couldn’t speak. The pain spread from the injection sight, engulfing her back. It felt like fire, compression, and a blade all at once.  
Hours passed and the pain subsided, if only a little. She lay on her side, eyes closed, breathing slowly and carefully. Bucky had never left her side, not even to sleep. At least, not willingly. In her haze of pain, Marilyn had become lucid enough to realize that she was alone for a good period of time. The cell next to her had been emptied. But when she next opened her eyes, they had returned, looking even more haggard than before. Bucky had bags underneath his eyes.  
“Hey, Mar. You with me?”  
Sluggishly, she nodded against the cold stone floor. “Mm here, Buck,” she rasped. “Don’t know for how much longer, though.”  
“Don’t!! Don’t say that Mar. You’re gonna be fine.” His voice shook ever so slightly.  
She smiled weakly at his forced encouragement. Clenching her jaw, Marilyn, reached out and grasped the bars nearest her. With Bucky’s help, she dragged herself to a half-sitting position, holding her shirt in place and balancing her head limply between two of the bars. One of his arms went around her waist. The other brushed hair out of her face as she tipped it to face him. “Bucky,” she breathed. “We have no idea what they’re doing to me.”  
“Mar, don’t. Please.” His voice broke.  
“Even if we get out of here alive, there’s a pretty slim chance I’ll last to see the end of the war.”   
Bucky’s broken, wavering voice stabbed through her heart. “I’m going to keep you safe. I’m going to save you,” he whispered aggressively.   
Weakly, she turned her head and brushed her lips against his in a gentle caress. “I know.”  
She left him stunned.  
But before he could respond, a sickeningly familiar voice sounded from behind her. From Bucky’s expression, a hardened, angry, hateful glare, the speaker was exactly who she thought it was.  
“How are we feeling today, 24B? Still alive, I hope?”  
Marilyn laboriously turned her head to face the front of her cell and glared as fiercely and defiantly as she could.  
This only served to encourage the sadistic little man. He rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Gentlemen, if you will please restrain the subject, gently now!”  
Unable to resist, Marilyn was torn away from Bucky and placed roughly on her stomach on the ground. The soldiers placed their hands strategically from her back to her ankles, rendering her immobile.  
“Good, good. Ah yes, will you please cut away her trousers? Just above the knee, if you will.”  
Every man in the nearby cages averted their eyes respectfully from her bare upper back and her newly exposed legs.  
The pain returned, this time originating from the backs of both her knees, one after the other. Just like before, it spread throughout her legs, all the way to her hips. She screamed. And once again, Bucky and the others were helpless to save her.  
Every day, the torture was repeated with a new injection site. Once in each wrist, then at the base of her neck, just behind each ear, even in her mouth. Every day, Bucky and the others were forced to watch and listen to a helpless woman cry out in agony and become sicker by the hour. She couldn’t move. She could barely speak. And there was nothing Bucky could do to help his childhood friend, except hold her hand whenever she was left within reach.  
Then, one day, the soldiers returned once more. Just the soldiers. Bucky had no idea how Marilyn had lasted this long, but apparently it was long enough for Zola. They entered her cell, but instead of holding her down, they picked her up, dragging her with them down the hall toward the west wing – the one from which no man returned.  
The last thing Marilyn registered hearing was Bucky’s tortured voice screaming her name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Respite is only temporary.

Dark. Cold. Pain.  
The screeching of the door to her prison swinging open.  
Marilyn blinked in irritation as light flooded her cell. Then it was blocked out. Her eyes flicked to the shadow stretching across the floor. It was big. Much bigger than Zola, or any of the soldiers he sent in after her. Her curiosity was piqued, just enough for her to lift her head, squinting against the light.  
“Marilyn..?”  
A name. My name… This intruder knew her name. She lifted a shaking hand to shade her eyes. The silhouette moved closer, kneeling in front of her. She shrank back against the wall.  
“Marilyn, Mar, it’s me! Steve! My God what have they done to you….”  
“Is it her?” Another voice, weaker than the first chimed in.  
“Yeah, it’s her. She’s in a bad way, Buck, you weren’t kidding.”  
Buck… “Bucky?” Her voice was thin, raspy, and painful.  
“Yeah, Mar, I’m here.” The other man moved closer.  
Tears stung her eyes and streaked down her filthy cheek. “H-how…”  
Steve touched her shoulder lightly, making her cringe. “Save your strength, we’re going to get you of here. Can you walk?”  
Chains rattled as she lifted her hands. Thick iron rings encircled her thin wrists.  
Steve sucked in a breath at the sight of them, then broke the locks with two quick twists. He stood, offering her his hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”  
She grasped it with both emaciated hands and pulled herself upright, wobbling. Her tattered clothes hung off her in rags, barely keeping her modest. Steve put his arm around her and helped her out the door. Bucky stood there, leaning heavily on the wall.  
Marilyn stumbled forward, into his arms. Besides being almost as weak as she was, the man squeezed her as tightly as he could, wincing as he felt her bones starkly through her meagre clothing.  
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered.  
She stayed silent, pressing her face into his chest. Abruptly, she pushed away, a confused look on her face. She turned, supporting herself against Bucky.  
“Wait… Steve? Steve Rogers? As in… Baby Teevers?”  
The hulking soldier rolled his eyes at the loathed nickname. “Yeah.”  
She looked him up and down. “You hit your growth spurt.” A spark of mischief tugged at her lips.  
Steve chuckled, sighing in defeat. “There’s the Mar we know and love. Now let’s get you two out of here.”

Miraculously, they made it back to the camp. They processed in, welcomed as heroes with cheers and applause.  
Marilyn took up residence in the medical tent. She looked much healthier with regular food and water, but that did little more than erase the sharp angles and emaciated look her body had taken on. Her condition never seemed to improve, nor did it worsen. She would have unexplainable pains at or around the injection sites. Her legs were almost unusable. There was no telling what Hydra had done to her during her lengthy imprisonment.  
Steve and Bucky visited her regularly, before and after each mission. She patched their wounds and laughed at their stories and cheesy jokes. But there was something more between her and Bucky. After all they had gone through together, emotions ran high between their hearts. All three of them could feel it. But nothing ever came of it. They were both scared, terrified. And, as she would soon find out, nothing ever could.  
Steve stood once again in front of her bed. But this time was different. This time he was alone. And he was crying.  
“Marilyn….” His voice was thick and choked, making the girl sit up straighter in her cot.  
“Steve, what…” But she didn’t need to ask. His eyes told it all.  
Bucky was gone.  
“I’m so sorry, Mar, I- I should have saved him, I was right there and I couldn’t-…” Steve trailed off helplessly, leaning against the end of the frame of her rickety bed.  
Marilyn sobbed harder than she ever had, hunching over and crying into her hands. But as soon as she bent her back, something happened. Fire raced up and down her spine, spreading to her fingertips. Her sobs turned to screams of excruciating pain. Involuntarily, she threw herself backwards onto the bed and began to thrash and convulse as the torture continued. She dimly heard Steve hoarsely yelling for help, and felt his big, rough hands on her shoulders, holding her down.   
Then the world went black.

_____________________________________________

She awoke in a clean white room. She could hear cars, not gunfire. Chatter, and not screams. Slowly, she sat up as a woman in a crisp white nurse’s uniform entered her room with a smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Marilyn. My name is Susan, I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”  
“Where am I?”  
“A hospital in New York. You were transported here after having a severe convulsive episode.”  
“Steve, he… He told me…” The tears came again. “Bucky…”  
Her next few days were spent in a depressed silence. She passively took the medications and treatments prescribed to her. She rarely spoke. But her condition worsened. Soon, she was well and truly bedridden. Her only happiness came from the few letters she received from Steve and Peggy, whom she had befriended during her time in the military camp. But soon, the letters stopped. Weeks later, it was Peggy who stood at the foot of her bed with tears in her eyes.  
“No…”  
“Marilyn-“  
“NO!!”

 

Dimly, Peggy’s voice came through the fog. “Marilyn? Can you hear me? Our technology can’t save you. Your body is tearing itself apart. The SSR has decided that you will be put into a cryo chamber until our science catches up with you. We’re trying to save you. I promise, I’ll find a way. For-for Steve. And for you. I don’t know how long it will take, so… Just be prepared, alright?”  
Cold… So cold. And dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 70 years later....

“Why are we here, Fury? Because both Dr. Banner and I have some very important research going on and I’d really like to-“  
The chatter of the infamous Tony Stark was shockingly silenced at the sight before him. Nicky Fury, the big, bad, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., had brought him and his esteemed colleague to a top-secret portion of a facility they called the Sandbox. There they stood, miles below the surface, behind several locked doors, DNA and iris scanners, and voice recognition modules, in a large spacious room that only contained one thing.  
A girl.  
Or rather, a woman, floating in a suspended animation chamber that stood at the center.  
Fury gestured to her. “Gentlemen, meet Marilyn. Probably the deepest buried secret SHIELD has to offer.”  
Tony quickly shut his gaping mouth.  
Her long, almost black hair waved gently around her body. She was small, and wore an old-fashioned hospital gown. Her exposed arms and legs were littered with white scars, as was her face. Whoever she was, she’d been through hell.  
Clearing his throat, Tony spoke, gesturing. “Fury. Why do you have a top secret girl-in-a-box?”  
“I’m not quite sure myself. It took weeks of digging through old SSR files to find any record of her.” Fury folded his hands behind his back.  
“SSR? As in the organization from the forties that preceded SHIELD?” Dr. Banner asked.  
“That’s the one. We found her in an old SRR facility, in a pretty primitive cryo-freeze chamber and had her moved her once we were sure she was stable. Apparently Miss Marilyn was a personal friend of Margaret Carter, one of the founders of SHIELD. She was captured and experimented on by Hydra. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”  
Both scientists nodded.  
“We don’t know what they did, or why she got frozen. We don’t even have her last name. All we have is a couple reports of painful, convulsive fits during periods of high emotion, and a note from Ms. Carter, saying to ‘wake her when our technology has caught up’.”  
“So, you want us to, what, poke and prod her some more?” Bruce sounded slightly defensive.  
“I want you to save her.” Fury looked up at the young woman. “It’s about time Ms. Carter fulfilled her promise.”

Weeks of research and work later, two exhausted geniuses stood in front of the suspended animation tank, studying the results of their work. An integrated harness wrapped around her upper torso (which Bruce had insisted on attaching himself, without Tony in the room). It met at an arc reactor similar to Tony’s in the center of her chest, just below her breasts, then branched out to wrap around her ribcage at one end, then up and over her shoulders. Every few centimeters, microtubules inserted themselves into blood vessels and major muscles. The entire system was state-of-the-art and fully integrated into her biochemistry. But that was just to keep her body going. Her mind was another story. A similar setup circled her head, starting high on her forehead, then looping down through her hair and up again. If she kept her hair down, no one would ever notice it.  
Tony grinned victoriously at his drooping friend. “I think we did it.”  
Bruce spared him a tiny smile. “I think we did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one, I know. Pause for dramatic effect....


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening your eyes in the next century is disorienting, to say the least.

Warm. And soft.  
These were the first things Marilyn registered. Hadn’t it been cold before? Cold and harsh, like a Hydra cell. But now, her surroundings were warm and comfortable. Humming softly, she stretched. I don’t think I could move before, either. With effort, she opened her eyes.  
She was back in her hospital room. Or so she thought. The noises of traffic outside seemed much louder than she remembered. And the radio show playing softly on the table sounded eerily familiar.  
Slowly, she sat up. The light blanket fell to her waist. Something felt... different. She felt stronger and clearer than she had. But there was something else. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and cautiously stood, delight brightening her face. I couldn’t do that before… Pants and a shirt? That’s new. Taking soft, careful steps, she moved around the bed to a mirror that hung on the wall.  
Her face was thinner and paler than she remembered, and her hair was longer. She was wearing a soft v-neck t-shirt and long slouching cloth pants with an elastic waistband. But something… With one nervous hand, she raked her hair back from her face and almost shrieked with shock.  
Some sort of… machine was wrapped around her head. Turning, she saw it continued under her hair all the way around. These movements aggravated something else. Taking a deep breath, she tugged the collar of her shirt aside. She clamped her lips together at the sight. A similar machine snaked across and around her upper body. Ok… Peggy said she’d save me. Maybe she has. But I wonder how long it’s been…  
The door latch rattled. Quickly, she moved back to her bed and sat on the edge, folding her hands in her lap.  
It opened, revealing a young woman with curled dark hair, red lipstick, a crisp nurse’s uniform, and a pleasant smile. But she wasn’t Susan.  
“Miss Marilyn, you’re awake! We were beginning to worry.”  
“How long has it been?” Her voice was soft and a little raspy.  
The nurse looked politely confused. “Excuse me?”  
Marilyn met her eyes. “Peggy said they were freezing me, and that they’d wake me when technology had caught up. Apparently it has. So how long has it been?”  
After a second or two of floundering, the young nurse clasped her hands in front of her. “I… I think I’d better let the director be the one to talk to you.”  
“Then please let him know I’d like to speak with him, as soon as possible.”  
Flustered, the young woman nodded, then left, closing the door behind her.  
Marilyn laid back on the bed, resting her hands on her stomach. She knew she should be nervous, panicked even. But she just felt... neutral. Hungry, for sure, but peaceful.  
The door opened again, causing her to sit up. The African-American man that filled the doorway was far more imposing than the little nurse. He was dressed all in black leather, with a black eye patch covering one eye.  
“I heard you wanted to chat with me, Miss Marilyn,” the man said as he strolled into her room with his hands behind his back.  
“Are you the Director?”   
“Name’s Nick. Nick Fury. And yes, I’m the director of SHIELD.”  
“SHIELD?”  
“A covert organization that grew out of the ashes of the SSR. I believe you are familiar with them.”  
Marilyn nodded. “Yes.”  
“So.” Director Fury settled himself in a chair directly opposite her. “You are quite the mystery, Miss Marilyn. Very few records of you outside of the SSR. What would you like to talk about?”  
Marilyn’s lips quirked upward. The man’s imposing, swaggering air amused her. “How long has it been, Director? What year have I woken in?”  
“2014.”  
Marilyn caught her breath, her eyes widening. “That’s… much later than I would have thought.”  
“I figured. But it’s only now that we, #1: figured out you existed. And 2: actually had the tech to save you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. “I assume you’ve already found those little… alterations.”  
“I have.”  
“Good.”  
“So, what happens to me now?”  
“That, my dear, is the question of the hour.” Fury stood. “We can’t just set you loose. Other than the obvious reasons, the world has changed over the years. Far more than you realize. Then again, we can’t just keep you here against your will. But… I do have a proposition”  
Marilyn waited patiently, looking at him pointedly.  
“The information we gathered while trying to find a way to keep you alive was this: You were infused with the DNA of many, many different animal species. This basically confused your body and made it start tearing itself apart. It didn’t recognize itself from the different invasive cells, so it attacked everything. High-stress emotions made that worse.”  
Marilyn nodded silently.  
“Same thing happened with your mind. It wasn’t just your muscles they messed with. Your brain got attacked as well. In a nutshell, you were going mad while your body killed itself. The contraption you’re wearing acts as a mediator, forcing all the different DNA’s to work together in harmony. Thing is, that has led to some fascinating developments. Side-effects, if you wanna call them that.”  
“What are they?”  
Fury sat back down, looking her directly in the eyes. “Your cells are showing the potential for… Shapeshifting.”  
Marilyn looked incredulous. “Shapeshifting. Really.”  
“Believe it or not, we’ve seen stranger.”  
“Name one.”  
“Well, we’ve got a billionaire that flies around in a fully weaponized metal suit, a genetically enhanced master assassin, a scientist that turns into a “giant green rage monster”, as Stark puts it, when he’s angry-“  
“Wait,” Marilyn interrupted. “Stark? As in Howard Stark?”  
“As in his son, Anthony Stark, who goes by Tony. He’s the one in the metal suit. He’s actually one of the ones who saved you. Him, and the angry scientist Bruce Banner.”   
Marilyn sat silently for a moment. “Got anything else?”  
“A Norse God, and a couple others.”  
“A Norse God.”  
“In the flesh.”  
Marilyn ran her hand down her face, then leaned back. “Kind of sounds like a recipe for disaster.”  
“It almost was. But the alien invasion last year was enough to pull ‘em together and make ‘em fight like a team.”  
Marilyn laid back across the bed, letting her head hang across the other side. “Alien invasion.” Her words were muffled by her hands.  
“Led by the Norse God’s adopted baby brother with daddy issues.”  
“Oh, of course. Who else?” Her voice was dripping with polite sarcasm. She quickly sat up. “Ok, I yield. I can supposedly shapeshift. What of it?”  
“I’d like to train you as an agent. Hone your abilities. Then, you would work for me.”  
Her eyes narrowed. “Right… I’m fairly certain Hydra had the same ideas when they made me.”  
“SHIELD is not Hydra.”  
“But, from what I’m hearing, your foundations are the same. Difference is, you don’t make the weapons. You just improve them and use them to your own ends.”  
“Now-,”  
“No. It’s my turn. I’ll train. I’m curious about what I’m capable of, too. But no contract, no employment. You want my help, you can ask nicely. I’ll be the judge of whether or not I want to be involved.” Without waiting for a response, Marilyn extended her right hand. “Deal?”  
Fury glared her in the eye for a moment, the grudgingly accepted her handshake. “Deal.”  
“Good. So when do we start?”  
“Soon. First, there’s someone you should know about.” Fury stood and opened the door, speaking to an unseen agent outside. “Send for him.”  
Marilyn cocked her head inquisitively, but she got no response from the stoic director.  
A half hour later, footsteps approached the door. Nick stood as it opened, blocking the stranger’s view of the room. They exchanged whispers, then Fury spoke up. “I’m sure you heard of Captain America way back when.” He stepped aside, revealing-  
“Steve?” Marilyn’s voice pitched upward, wavering.  
Captain Roger’s eyes flew open. “M-Mar??”  
The girl leapt from the bed, launching herself into his arms. “Steve!!”  
He held her tightly, still absorbing the shock of what he was seeing.  
“Peggy told me you were dead…” She whispered through tears.  
“They all thought I was…” He pushed her slightly away to look at her face, alternating between holding her shoulders and cupping her cheek in one big hand. “Mar, how are you here? What’s going on?”  
Fury reclined in his chair once again, arms crossed. “Apparently you’re not the only one who froze in 1945, Captain.”  
“What..?”  
Marilyn nodded, wiping away her tears. “What Hydra did to me… It was killing me. Peggy convinced the SSR to put me in cryo until technology caught up with me. But apparently I got lost in the transition from SSR to SHIELD.”  
Steve put one hand disbelievingly on her cheek, then pulled her against his chest once again, pressing his face into her hair. “I still can’t believe it…” He whispered. After a moment, he let her go. “But how long have you been out?” He glared at Fury. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
Fury lifted his hands. “We didn’t know you two knew each other, Rogers, much less know if she was going to survive. The whole thing was kept quiet until we were sure she’d make it. Even now she’s still considered top-secret.”  
“I also only woke up a couple hours ago, so, no beating necessary.” Marilyn met his eyes with a small, mischievous grin.  
Steve sighed, then chuckled. “I’ve missed you..”  
“Good.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training.

One week later, Marilyn stood in the center of a moderately sized SHIELD training room, the same one she’d visited every day since her awakening. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that almost reached her waist. She kind of liked it long.  
Fury occasionally oversaw these sessions, and Steve would visit whenever he could. This particular day, though, both of them had been called away to their duties.  
Over the past week, Marilyn had discovered incredible things about her new body. Every one of her talents was animal-based, due to the strains of DNA that had been so clumsily incorporated with her own. She now had drastically enhanced senses – she could pick out a stealth agent in the dark with only her eyes and identify hundreds of different smells from hundreds of yards away. Each individual had their own particular scent, she found. Even Fury was incapable of sneaking up on her anymore. Her hearing was almost painfully sensitive. But those weren’t her only alterations.  
Her tongue was longer and thinner than any human tongue, and felt like sandpaper to the touch. Her eyes held oval shaped pupils, catlike in their shape. Overall she was stronger, faster, and far more flexible than almost every agent SHIELD had to offer. But there were far more changes she learned to induce, as a part of the shapeshifting capabilities.  
She’d learned to extend her fingernails into long, retractable claws that looked like they belonged to some deadly breed of cat. With only a thought, her teeth would sharpen and lengthen into a mouthful of shark-like canines, made for ripping and tearing. But, should she be sent on a stealth mission, her human canine teeth could turn into long, slender and deadly snake fangs. She was even immune to the poison they secreted, a fatal strain SHIELD scientists had yet to identify.  
And all these were only the easy ones.  
Today, she was trying something new. She stretched casually with her hands above her head, twisting in the SHIELD issue body suit. It was a bit tight for her tastes, hugging her every curve and contour. A more observant spectator might even be able to pick out her life support contraption, and that made her uncomfortable. No one, not even Steve, beside her, Fury, and whoever installed it knew about the machine. But, she had to admit, she could work it. This particular suit had been modified to accommodate her particular abilities. This way, when training was over, she wasn’t left in a shredded, practically non-existent suit.  
Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Marilyn blew out a slow breath, then closed her eyes. Summoning something for the first time was always difficult, and sometimes painful. This one specifically had the potential for being particularly exhausting.  
Her whole body tensed with concentration. Her shoulder blades began to shift and stretch, pushing out against the suit. Her face was clenched and began to glisten with sweat. Strangled grunts slipped through her lips as the deformities grew larger and began to tear through the suit. She dropped to her knees, arching her back and clenching her hands into fists.  
“Aah… AAH!”  
Feathers burst forth as the transformation was finally released from her body. She stayed there on all fours, gasping for air as two shining wings spread out above her.  
When her heart rate had steadied, she carefully stood, leaning forward to compensate for the new weight on her back. Experimentally, she gently waved the wings back and forth, savoring the feeling of the air straightening out her golden brown feathers with a triumphant grin on her face.  
“Very impressive, Miss Marilyn.”  
She turned slowly, smiling proudly at her audience – Nick Fury. “I thought so as well,” she responded cheekily.  
He raised his eyebrows, keeping a stoic expression. But he couldn’t keep the twinkle out of his eye. Loath as he was to admit it, he had developed a soft spot for his newest top secret addition. “But can you use them?”  
“Well,” Marilyn said, taking a couple steps back. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Slowly at first, she flapped the wings. A powerful wind began to circulate around the training room, sending Fury’s coat whipping and snapping around his legs.   
As her rate increased, her body began to lift. Her face glowed as her feet finally left the ground and hovered a good foot above the training floor. Leaning forward, she was able to fly a full lap around the room before dropping into a slightly clumsy landing.  
The sight of her delight was enough to make even Nicholas J. Fury smile. “Well, looks like we’ll have to design a whole new training regimen for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and filler. More story coming soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the world came crumbling down.

HYDRA was alive. Fury was dead. SHIELD’s three top operatives were running for their lives.   
Marilyn’s entire world had just come crashing down.   
After months of intensive training and testing, Marilyn had become an official SHIELD operative. Her abilities were still top-secret, and only to be used when in dire need, but her everyday abilities in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, and stealth made her a stellar agent. Her enhanced reflexes and senses helped, too.   
For the first few weeks of her training, after being released from the grip of the doctors, she had stayed with Steve in his apartment. It was nice, being so close to him in her time of transition. His shared experience with the situation was helpful as well. But she knew living with a woman to whom he was not married made Steve uncomfortable. So, as soon as she was cleared to be living on her own, she rented an apartment a few doors down. SHIELD provided the funds for rent.  
Her life consisted of train, sleep, train, test, train, and spend time with Steve. Neither of them had much free time, but they had 60 years of catching up to do. They met and talked whenever they could, and sometimes Steve would come to the training sessions and see her progress. Her newfound powers blew the Captain’s mind, but she could tell he was proud, and grateful that Fury was willing to give her that opportunity.   
One day, during a training session, a red-haired woman named Natasha had interrupted to fetch Steve for a mission. That was the first time Marilyn had met the one of the world’s deadliest assassins. The two had quickly become fast friends. Natasha would often serve as Marilyn’s sparring partner when she had surpassed most of the mid-level agents.  
Finally, the day came that Marilyn was officially inducted as an Agent of SHIELD. She was more than excited to be assigned her first mission.  
But the day never came.   
Tension began to build. Steve was angry, in turmoil. Then Fury was shot in his apartment, and the tactical team attacked him in the elevator.   
Marilyn had just finished a visit with one of the resident medical professionals. They liked to stay up-to-date on her condition, make sure she was still stable, and try to figure out ways they could improve up the design of her life support system. She exited the lab into a long, narrow, and empty hallway. Not entirely unusual, but she sensed something else. Tension in the air, and the smell of sweat and fear.  
Footsteps echoed in the hall. She froze, then resumed her leisurely stroll, seemingly relaxed, but coiled to spring.  
The lead tactical agent, Rumlow, turned the corner at the end of the hall, followed by three other fully-geared agents.   
“Agent Johnston, good to see you.”  
She smiled innocently. “Agent Rumlow, what a surprise. What brings you up here to the domain of science? Not looking for a match, are you?”  
Rumlow shrugged casually, but she could see his muscles tensing. His companions’ hands were twitching, nearing their weapons. Their eyes were flicking back and forth, searching, waiting.   
“We were on our way to see what the squints had on the evidence from Captain Roger’s apartment. Sorry, by the way, about Fury. I know you two were close.”  
Nodding slowly, Marilyn clasped her hands behind her back. “Thank you.” She looked at each man in turn. “Well, then. I don’t want to keep you.” She stepped aside, hands still behind her back. “Carry on, gentlemen.”  
Rumlow made to walk past her, then lunged.  
________________________________________  
Exhausted, frightened, alone and in pain, Marilyn staggered through the streets of Washington DC. She had traded her SHIELD-issue uniform for tattered jeans and an oversized hoodie. Both were stained with the blood the leaked from a myriad of cuts all over her body. She’d been forced to crash through a top-floor window to escape the tactical team, without any sort of protection against the broken glass. She couldn’t go back to her apartment, and she couldn’t call anyone. She’d discarded her phone and any sort of SHIELD tech that could be used to track her.   
Panting, she ducked down an alleyway and leaned against the wall, thinking hard. A scent hit her nose. Rumlow… She slid down the wall and dropped to the ground, curling up with her hood pulled low over her head. To them, she looked like one of the many homeless that wandered the streets of the massive city.  
Thankfully, they passed her by. She stood quietly, then darted out into the crowded street to disappear into the mob.  
She passed days like this – starving and scared. But then, everything came to a head. Gunfire sounded from somewhere downtown. Screams echoed down the streets. Crunching, the screech of breaks, and a massive crash. Marilyn broke into a run, sprinting straight toward the danger. She stripped off the grungy hoodie, down to a dirty white tank top, and tied it around her waist as she ran. Then, with practiced ease, her shining wings burst from her shoulders. Several people around her shrieked in surprise and fear, but she paid them no heed.   
A car was parked on the curb. Her stride lengthened, and with a few leaping strides she ran up the hood and launched off the roof, spreading her wings fully. She caught air and soared away, flapping hard and banking carefully to compensate for DC conditions. It wasn’t long till she found the source of the commotion.  
Several men stood on the overpass, firing semi-automatic weapons off the bridge at anything that moved below them. A man was resisting them, but he was outnumbered. Two figures fought their way through the carnage below. Steve and… Natasha? Their main enemy seemed to be a monster of a man with a metal arm and a black face mask. She swooped low over the overpass, landed, took out two men, and took their weapons. An African American man crouched behind a car stared at her in shock. She never stopped. Slinging one rifle over her shoulders, keeping it clear of her wings, she cocked the other one and jumped straight back off the bridge, spiraling toward the unknown man.  
When she was in range, she opened fire.   
And didn’t even make a dent.  
The operative glared up at her.   
Steve shouted her name.   
Without warning, Marilyn tucked in her wings and rocketed toward the man, opening them just in time to slam feet first into the man’s head. He knocked her back with his metal arm. She landed safely on her feet and threw away the guns. Her wings shrank and vanished into two newly-torn holes in the back of her shirt.   
The next few minutes were a blur. She and Steve operated as a well-oiled machine, tag-teaming an opponent who would never back down.  
Marilyn spread her wings and took to the skies. A sniper from the bridge began firing, and caught her in the side. She cried out, grasping the wound as her vision tunneled. She lost altitude, dropping toward the mystery man. Only, this time, he was ready. He turned lightning fast, swinging with his metal arm and drove it straight through one of her wings, shattering the delicate joint.   
With a scream, she was thrown several feet before rolling and skidding on the shattered asphalt. She tucked one arm against her side, breathing heavily as she tried desperately to stay conscious. Her vision swam and blurred, darkening at the edges. She could just make out Steve battling the man. One well-placed strike sent the man’s mask flying. In a spilt-second of clarity, she saw his face.  
Bucky?  
Darkness.

 

Marilyn woke to agonizing pain and an image burned into her mind. Without opening her eyes, she assessed her condition, and her surroundings. A fire burned in the wound in her right side and in one of her wings, both of which had been awkwardly crammed into a binding against her back, throbbed excruciatingly. She felt dizzy. Blood loss and shock… Her hands had been restrained as well. The surface beneath her was hard and cold, and it rattled and rocked continuously. Truck. Then the image returned, growing larger and larger in her mind’s eye until she felt she might suffocate.  
With a gasp and a jerk, Marilyn opened her eyes, blinking hard against the bright light that flooded them.   
“Mar, you ok?” Steve’s soft voice sounded from above her.  
When her vision cleared, she realized she was looking at… Feet. Twisting, she saw five other people. Steve, Natasha, two agents, and the African man she had yet to meet. She soon regretted the movement.  
“Aahh… I’m ok for now. My wing is broken, but I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital. If I lose much more blood, I’ll be in trouble.” Her voice sounded weak and faint to her own ears.   
“Same goes for Natasha,” the unfamiliar man said.   
“Mm.. And you are?”  
“Sam Wilson. Friend of Cap’s. You?”  
“Marilyn Johnston. Same.”  
“Just, you know, with wings?”  
Marilyn squeezed her eyes shut, hissing in pain. “Ah, yeah. You don’t know the half of it.” She fell silent, then spoke again. “Steve…”  
No response.  
“That man…”  
“I know.”  
For the first time in over 60 years, Marilyn felt that familiar stabbing, tearing pain in her heart. “It couldn’t have been,” she whispered.  
“It was. He didn’t even know me. He looked straight at me, but there was nothing there.” Steve sounded so broken, so forlorn. The pain of his best friend’s death was fresh on his heart, and hers as well.  
Marilyn felt like she was drowning, floundering in a sea of emotions. Blackness clawed at her peripheral vision. “I think… I’m…”  
Once again, the serenity of unconsciousness claimed her tortured mind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise.

A sickly yellow light glared through her eyelids. Marilyn wrinkled her brow, moaning softly. Her mind felt foggy and dull. As her perceptions slowly returned to her, she realized she had been laid on her left side. From the weight behind her, her wings were still stretched out behind her. They had been supported on something. Why…? Gently, she tried to pull them in and was rewarded by a shooting pain straight up to her back. Startled, she cried out, clawing at the thin mattress beneath her and forcibly relaxing her muscles. “Mm.. ah….” Broken… Right. As she shifted, a burning heat grew in her right side.   
Breathing slowly and carefully, Marilyn relaxed and took in her surroundings, moving only her eyes.   
The room was dim, lit by electric bulbs and a standing lamp by her bed. The walls were concrete, and there was no door or front wall to her little room. Her bed was a pilfered hospital cot with a thin mattress and a single blanket that was draped over her hips and legs. Shadows flickered on the walls in the hallway, and faint echoes drifted down to her. She wasn’t alone.   
Craning her neck, Marilyn stretched to catch a glimpse of her wings. Her injured one rested on top of the other, both precariously balanced on a few various surfaces. The beautiful golden feathers were matted with blood, and it hung at on awkward, painful angle. The Hydra operative’s arm practically had turned the appendage inside out. The operative… Bucky… Hot tears burned in her eyes unshed as she pushed him violently from her mind. She refused to think of him.   
Once again, she turned her attentions to her injuries. Obviously, wherever she was, there wasn’t anyone skilled in dealing with anything other than humans – her bullet wound had been well-tended. But why? The last thing she remembered was lying on the floor of a Hydra truck at her friends’ feet. Why had her captors cared for her?   
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused on the injuries. She could see the shattered skeleton in her mind’s eye. Bracing herself, she began to slowly pull her wings back into herself. The pain quickly amplified. Her entire body stiffened, aggravating her side. She stuffed a handful of her blanket in her mouth to muffle her cries. Sweat dripped down her face to mingle with tears. The blanket absorbed any moisture that had remained in her mouth, and short, pitched shrieks slipped through the thin cloth. Slowly, torturously, the limbs slipped away from whence they came.   
Finally, it was over. Marilyn fell limply against the bed and rolled stiffly onto her back, panting starved breaths accented with whimpers. She took that moment of rest to get a clearer outlook on her situation. She was left in her dirty jeans and tank top. At intervals, her grime-darkened flesh showed through. Her tank top was torn where the bullet had entered and exited, and the white cloth had vanished beneath the red-brown of partially dried blood. Beneath that, a clean white dressing plugged the entry and exit wounds. Her feet were still bare, and her matted hair was spread on the pillow beneath her.   
Taking one final breath, she pushed herself into a sitting position and scooted to the edge of the bed, wincing. She carefully dropped her feet onto the freezing cold concrete, knees bent. Her nails extended into lethal claws as she padded softly toward the hall, her enhanced senses perked for any sound or motion. But something caught her attention. A scent, barely a whiff, had prodded her nose. A familiar one. She took a long, slow breath, and was accosted by many familiar smells – all human, Limping, she followed them, still tense. The murmur of voices soon reached her ears. She took one turn, then another, then finally reached her destination: Fury’s makeshift conference room.   
“You son of a bitch….”  
At her soft, matter-of-fact statement, the motely gathering looked up. Steve, Natasha, Sam, Maria Hill, and Fury all turned their gazes on her.   
Steve smiled crookedly, his relief obvious. “Hey. You had us worried.”  
Marilyn relaxed, straightening for the most part and releasing her claws. She heavily favored her right side. She spared Steve a passing glance and sad little smile, then fixated on Fury, an exhausted, primal anger lurking in her wolfish eyes. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, you lying bastard.”  
Fury spread his uninjured arm innocently. “Is that any way to speak to your director? –“  
“You’re not. Director. Not anymore.” Venom seeped into her tone, but her volume never changed.   
His uncovered eyebrow raised. “I gave you a second chance at life, Miss Johnston. You would do well to remember that.”   
“Right, just like Bucky got. Unfrozen to be soldiers. Pawns.” Her voice was dangerously level.   
“I didn’t know about Barnes. No one did.”  
“Yes they did. No one bothered to believe them.”  
At that, Natasha glanced up at her, then back to Fury.  
Fury sighed, leaning back in his chair, then nodded to Hill.  
“We have a way to take down the Hydra helicarriers.”  
“Good. Then read me in.” Marilyn slipped into a chair next to Steve. She glanced over at him when his super-soldier-sized hand landed on her knee. His eyes were filled with concern, sadness, and determination. Silently, they communicated, an art perfected over decades of friendship, suffering, and loss. Then, with a tiny nod, Steve broke the connection and turned to look at Fury.   
“Let’s take them down.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight for your life

The world swam before her eyes. She heard grating, crashing. Blinking hard, she dragged herself to her hands and knees. Pain lanced through her whole body; her wings hung uselessly behind her. She could smell metal, scorched fuel, and blood. Too much blood. She climbed laboriously to her feet, staggering as she looked helplessly up to where she knew Steve was.   
He had arrived to insert the final targeting chip, but the Winter Soldier had followed him. Marilyn completed her objective and went to help, but the man was just as indestructible as the last time they had fought. His mask and goggles were gone. Now, the gaunt ghost of their pasts was free to haunt them throughout the battle.   
Angry tears, blood, and sweat coated her cheeks. Her vision cleared, and she saw him, Bucky, lying unconscious a little ways away. When she found her balance, she frantically activated her comm device. “Steve? Are you there? Are you ok?”  
His voice came through, faint and strained. “I’m here. Chip’s in.”  
Hill interrupted. “Get out of there, Cap, Marilyn.”  
“No time. Fire now.”  
“But-“  
“Do it!” She heard him struggle to draw breath. “Mar… Get out of here.”  
“I’m grounded, Tevers.” Her voice broke. “No escape.”  
“I’m sorry…”  
“I’m honored.” Shuddering, she sank painfully to her knees, keeping her eyes fixed on where he was. If only I could see him… “We got a second chance. We fought alongside each other. We’ve cheated at life already anyway.”   
An explosion rocked helicarrier. Marilyn was thrown toward the open air. Her head smacked the metal hull as she scrabbled for purchase, managing to slow and stop her decent. Something large slammed the floor beside her. With a bird-like shriek of surprise and pain, she rolled away, awkwardly folding her wings against her back and catching a glimpse of metal, black, and red, white, and blue.   
Bucky knelt above Steve, slamming his metal fist into his face over and over again. Steve did nothing to fight back.   
Clutching at a protruding beam, Marilyn could only watch and weep. Tears cut new tracks down her haggard face. “Bucky,” she called weakly.   
The man froze, fist in mid-air, with his eyes still locked on the beaten and bruised form beneath him.  
“Bucky, please. Please stop.”  
“He… He is my mission.”  
“He is your friend. We are your friends. Bucky…”  
“No!” he screamed. “He is my mission! You are my mission!” Marilyn heard a crunch of metal against flesh with every venomous word.   
“Then finish it. Because I’m with you till the end of the line.”  
Another concussion rocked the ship.   
Steve fell.   
Marilyn crouched in shock as her friend, her brother, plummeted toward the river, along with a thousands of shards of metal shrapnel. Bucky pulled himself up back into the ship and crouched at the edge, watching him fall. Slowly, he turned his head to face her. The look in his eyes made her recoil.  
Emptiness. Pain. Sorrow. And utter confusion. The once dashing, sparkling blue eyes of the man she loved were cold chips of fractured stone.  
“Bucky…”  
“That’s… that’s not my name….” His voice had dropped from primal screaming to a broken murmur.   
“It is… You are James Buchannan Barnes, my best friend…” Metal grated and cracked as the helicarrier continued to come apart. Marilyn was thrown toward the edge. “Ah!” She caught a piece that protruded over the chasm – the fractured metal sliced her palms to the bone – and braced her feet against the floor. “You are a good man, Bucky. An honorable man.” Blood poured from her hand, dripping down the wall to the floor, creating a dangerously slick surface. Her hands were slipping. There was nothing she could do.   
“I love you, Bucky Barnes. I always have.”  
And she fell.

Beep. Beep. Beep.  
I have done this far too many times.  
The pristine white of a hospital room surrounded her. Lazily, Marilyn blinked, opening her eyes wider each time. Everything hurt, but it was a good hurt. A healing hurt. It meant she was alive. She shifted experimentally, taking in her surroundings. Pain tingled throughout her body; her hands, waist, face, arms, and legs were all bandaged and bound. There was an IV in one arm, and oxygen tubes in her nose. She was alone, but a shrill beeping coming from one of many machines told her that would not be the case for long.  
The next couple of hours went by in a blur of tests, medical personnel, questions, and confusion. She lay complacently as they scurried around taking readings and samples and changing dressings. She didn’t really pay much attention – her mind was fogged by sleep and sedatives.   
That is, until she heard one of the doctors say, “Tell Captain Rogers that she’s awake.”  
Steve… He’s alive… Oh, thank God, he made it. A tear slipped down her cheek as she lay there, waiting.   
Waiting for another reunion.  
I want to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End "The Winter Soldier". Next up, "Age of Ultron"!


	11. Chapter 11

Quick and quiet, Marilyn zipped through the misty morning fog that blanketed New York City. The damp cold weighted her clothes and permeated her bones, making her feel brisk and alive, something for which she was always grateful. With a hesitant sort of nostalgia, she gazed over the bustling city, already wide awake and taking on the world in the wee hours of the morning. It had been a long time since she had looked upon this little empire. 70 + years, to be exact. And she’d never had such a lovely view before.  
It had been over a year since the fall of SHIELD. Over a year since she had awoken, miraculously alive, in a Washington DC hospital. Over a year since she had seen Steve Rogers.  
The entire organization had gone into hiding after the helicarriers crashed. Given her more noticeable traits, Marilyn and Steve decided it was too dangerous for her to remain in the US. With a little help, the shifter fled to a rural part of Italy, living in a tiny little town trapped in time. She had spoken to or seen anyone affiliated with her cause since.   
But things were changing. News stories began to appear, featuring the Avengers, reunited at last, taking down Hydra one base at a time. Whispers flew across the globe about what they were doing, how the world was changing. Over and over, stations played back clips of a massive tower in New York where the Avengers were allegedly stationed. Marilyn quickly decided that it was long past time to join them on the front lines.   
She had been flying for days, occasionally stopping to shelter amid forested areas, and keeping far from civilization. Finally, she had made it, and made a beeline for Avengers Tower. Before she made it there, though, she landed in Central Park. Might as well make herself presentable before making her entrance. 

 

Fighting a powerful draft, Marilyn hovered close to the massive curved window at the very top of the tower, and managed to land on the sill. She folded her wings against her back and clamped her arms at her sides, keeping her skirt from whipping up over her head. From the looks of it, Stark was in the middle of throwing a very lavish party. Luckily, Marilyn had caught wind of it on the ground, and was able to dress accordingly. It wasn’t much, but what little she had was enough to merit a shower and a modest second hand cocktail dress in a lovely dark green. She stood for a moment, unnoticed, then grinned as she spotted her target.  
Steve, looking very smart in a button-down and slacks, was walking along with Sam Wilson at his side, right next to the window.   
Extending a claw, she tapped sharply on the glass. He turned, confused, then looked shocked, then seemed to laugh. The look on Wilson’s face was priceless. With a grin, she pointed up toward the roof and mouthed, “Door?”  
He nodded, still grinning, then strode quickly to the stairs that would take him to the roof access.   
With a little wave at Sam, Marilyn flapped her wings hard once and shot up to the entrance. She landed next to a very spiffy quinjet and retracted her wings through the open back of her dress. It had a modest scoop neck and solid short sleeves, then opened in a small, but flattering, bare area, right where her wings were. It was all very convenient. The color even complemented her eyes and hair. And, as a bonus, her life-support system was completely concealed.  
With a backwards swipe of her hand, she tamed her windswept hair and smoothed down her A-line skirt right as the hanger access door swooshed open.   
Steve stood there, shocked and laughing, as she walked confidently toward him, stepping lightly in stylish, but practical, brown ankle boots. She grinned, cocking her head. “Miss me, Tevers?”  
Chuckling, he took her in his strong arms, lifting her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. “More than you know,” he mumbled. After a moment of fond silence, he placed her back on the ground. “You make quite the entrance. You about gave Wilson a heart attack.”  
She winked. “That was the best part.”  
“But what are you doing here?”  
“Mastered Italian, four different dialects, worked as almost everything you can be over there, then started seeing reports that you,” she poked his chest accusingly. “were having fun without me. I was bored, and I missed you, so I decided to fly over and join up. Besides, it’s about time I met these infamous Avengers.”

 

With the super soldier on her arm, Marilyn descended into the fray. It seemed some of the guests had already gone home, but there were many were still enjoying themselves at Stark’s expense.  
Sam met them at the base of the stairs, grinning and with one eyebrow raised in joking offense. “Next time you decide to drop outta the sky, you might wanna call first.”  
“Aw, now where’s the fun in that?” She shyly accepted his hug. “It’s good to see you, Sam.”  
“You too.”  
“Rogers! When you’re going to bring a beautiful woman to my party, it’s polite to warn me first! I’m hardly prepared for such a lovely creature.” A man sporting a goatee and a martini swaggered up behind Sam, offering his free hand.   
Marilyn took it, amusedly watching his flourishing kiss and bow routine. How like his father. “Mr. Stark, I presume?”  
“Tony, please. Who might you be, my dear? Wait, don’t tell me. I’m going to guess.” He stepped back, eyeing her up and down.  
Steve rolled his eyes at his antics. “C’mon Stark. You probably know her almost as well as I do.”  
The comment seemed to confuse the billionaire. His brow dropped for a moment, then his expression cleared and a grin of delight stretched across his face. “Could it be… Dr. Banner!” He waved across the room. A curly-haired man looked up and began to move tentatively through the crowd. “Come meet our newest guest and tell me who you think she resembles.”  
When he reached them, he lowered his glasses on his nose and eyed her hesitantly at Tony’s insistence. “Really, Stark- Marilyn?”  
Tony snapped. “That’s it! That was the name.”  
Bruce replaced his glasses and shook Marilyn’s hand, smiling softly. “It’s wonderful to properly meet you.”  
“And you, doctor. I believe I owe you and Mr. Stark my life.”  
Tony stepped forward. “No, not at all. You were a most fascinating project.”  
Banner looked at him incredulously, then back at Marilyn. “But what happened to you? We were only notified that you had woken up, then Fury took you off the grid.”  
Marilyn glanced up at Steve. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. Short version is: I became an agent, then SHIELD fell and I went into hiding.”  
“Sounds exciting. Tell me over a drink?” Tony gestured back toward the bar.   
“The drink is unnecessary, but thank you.” Marilyn released Steve’s arm and allowed herself to be led off, shooting a helpless glance over her shoulder at the chuckling soldier.


	12. Chapter 12

Hours later, most of the guests had left. Only the Avengers, Maria Hill, and a man named Rhodey were left, most of which didn’t know of Marilyn’s presence. They had all gathered on the center couches, laughing and chatting softly.   
At Steve’s prompting, Marilyn let him lead her in front of the group. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Marilyn Johnston. Some of you have met her, but I want you to make her feel welcome.”  
“Cap bringing a girl around? That’s gotta be a first.” Clint teased.  
Natasha rolled her eyes at him, then smiled invitingly and patted the couch beside her. When seated, she pulled her into a short embrace. “About time you showed yourself.”  
“I thought so too.”  
“Good to see you, Marilyn.”  
“You too, Agent Hill.”  
“Hold up, you guys know her?” Clint asked.  
“She was an agent,” Hill answered.  
Clint nodded slowly, twirling a drumstick. “Huh.”  
A large blonde man nodded and smiled in a friendly way across the little circle. Marilyn returned his gesture with a smile.   
Steve gestured to him. “This is Thor. The loud mouth on the floor is Clint, and this is Rhodey.”  
“So, Marilyn,” Thor began. “What is your story?”  
“Long,” she responded with a smile.  
He spread his hands, a glass in one hand. “We have time.” The rest of the group looked expectantly at her. Steve sat across from her and gave her a shrug, grinning.  
Rolling her eyes, Marilyn tucked her feet up under her, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”  
Clint waved dismissively with the drumstick he was twirling. “Try us.”  
“Ok… I was born in 1922. I grew up in the ghetto part of Brooklyn, and Steve and James Barnes were my childhood friends.”  
Barton’s eyes widened. His shock was reflected in the eyes of most of her audience. “Ok… Wasn’t expecting that one,” he chuckled.  
Marilyn grinned crookedly. “Told you.”  
Tony leaned forward, gesturing with his glass. “C’mon, keep it coming. Banner and I just worked on you, nobody bothered to tell us who you were or where you came from.”  
Marilyn smiled. “That’s because no one knew. So, I enlisted as a nurse for the war and ended up assigned to the 107th. Bucky’s regiment.” Her voice wavered a bit. “There was a battle. I was called out into the field. Half the regiment ended up captured, including me. The other half was dead.” She laced her fingers around her knees, dropping her eyes. “Hydra experimented on me for days. Bucky, too. We were the only ones that survived. Then, Cap rescued us.” She lifted her eyes to smile sadly at him. “We were safe, but I only got worse. They sent me back to New York after Bucky died, then the SSR put me in cryo to save me. So… here I am.”  
Silence met the conclusion of her story.   
“Damn,” Barton said softly.   
“Wait wait wait you let out the best part! Then, 70+ years later, a dashing billionaire scientist and his sidekick saved you from perdition,” Tony chimed in with a flourish.  
Everyone chuckled. “Wait, is he for real? Stark and Banner put you back together?” Barton sounded genuinely surprised behind his smirk.  
“More like made all the pieces work together,” Marilyn replied, a little more reluctantly. She waved dismissively. “But that’s about it for me.”  
To her relief, conversation soon turned to other matters, each little cluster chatting and joking softly. While they lounged, Marilyn stealthily slipped her feet out of the confines of her boots. She hated shoes. Feet prisons, that’s what they were. She tucked her now bare toes up under her body, spreading her skirt neatly over her legs. The soft banter drifted around her, giving her a sense of peace. But then, someone brought up Mjolnir, and how supposedly only Thor could lift it.  
“But it’s a trick!!” Clint exclaimed.   
Thor laughed. “No, no it’s much more than that.  
Clint dropped his voice to a parody of Thor’s resonating tones. “Ah, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the poowaaahh, whatever, man! It’s a trick!”  
Thor smiled benignly, extending a hand to indicate the hammer where it sat on the coffee table. “Well, please, be my guest.”  
“Really?” Clint stood and stepped around the table.  
“This is gonna be beautiful,” Rhodey said.   
“Now, Clint, you’ve had a tough week, we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.”  
Clint gave Thor a look. “You know I’ve seen this before, right?”  
Innocence radiated from Thor’s expression.   
Setting his feet, Clint grasped the handle with one hand and pulled. After a moment, he readjusted his grip and pulled again, grunting. Finally, he released it, laughing. “I still don’t know how you do it!”  
The whole situation escalated into a barrel of laughs. Every man had a turn at trying to lift the hammer, while those who looked on had a good chuckle at their expense. It was all very entertaining to watch how each man made an attempt with a different tactic each time and failed to move the weapon.   
Except Steve.   
He didn’t seem to have noticed, and Thor claimed there had been no movement at all, but Marilyn knew. She had to hide a smile at the sight of the cocky smirk dropping clean off Thor’s face when the hammer shifted just the tiniest bit.   
“And?”  
“Widow?” Bruce asked softly.   
“Oh, no, that’s not a question I need answered.” Natasha leaned back with a small smile.   
Gesturing, Tony said, “All deference to the Man Who Wouldn’t Be King, but it’s rigged.”   
Clint slapped his back. “You bet your ass.”  
Hill pointed with her beer hand. “Steve! He said a bad language word.” Chuckles erupted around the room.   
“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve sounded exasperated.  
Marilyn giggled. She’d have to ask him about that one later.   
“The handle’s imprinted, right? Like a security code. ‘Whosever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints,’ is, I think, the literal translation,” Tony said.   
“Yes, well, it’s a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one.” Thor lifted the hammer easily, flipping it in one hand. “You’re all not worthy.” Groans and protests met his claim.   
Steve lifted his eyebrows at Marilyn, grinning. “What about you, Mar?”  
Tony chimed in. “C’mon, as the newbie. You gotta be inducted or something.”  
Before she could reply, and awful, ear-piercing ringing erupted throughout the tower. Everyone winced and curled inward. Marilyn clapped her hands to her ears, clamping her eyes and jaw shut.   
“Woooorrrrrrrrrthyyyyyy….”  
A long, drawn-out, grating voice whispered from the hallway, accompanied by creaking, clacking footsteps on the spotless floors. Steve and others stood slowly and turned toward this new threat.   
Something came trudging into the living room, a robot of sorts, all open wires and dripping oil. It was half-complete, with half an arm, practically no face, and very little stability. It looked like something out of a horror movie. And it was speaking.   
“No. How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”   
“Stark?” Steve’s face was stony.   
Tony whipped out his control unit. “JARVIS.”  
The thing spoke again, wobbling as it turned its hunched form and attempted to gesture with its mangled appendages. It seemed confused with itself and its surroundings. “I’m sorry, I was asleep. Or I was a dream. …”  
Tony tapped away at his handheld control. “Reboot Legionnaire OS. We got a buggy suit.”  
“There was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in… strings…”  
The creature continued to ramble. As he did, Marilyn slowly stood, stepping carefully toward Steve, never taking her eyes off it. Her abilities wouldn’t be very effective if this thing was hostile. Every one of the Avengers and the other agents stood around her, tense and staring in contained horror.   
“I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”  
“You killed someone?” Steve asked gravely.   
“Wouldn’t have been my first call. But, down in the real world we’re faced with ugly choices.”  
Thor shifted his grip on the hammer. “Who sent you?”  
The squealing of a tape emitted from the creature, then Tony Stark’s voice. “I see a suit of armor around the world.”  
Subdued shock flickered across every face. Banner looked over at Tony. “Ultron…”  
“In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on mission.”  
Hands tightened around weapons. Guns cocked. Marilyn stepped behind Steve, letting her claws slide out.  
“What mission?” Natasha asked.   
It turned, looking directly at them for the first time. “Peace in our time.”   
The rest of the legionnaire robots burst through the walls. Steve kicked up the table, but was blown backward and Marilyn with him. Scrabbling, Marilyn managed to stand and dove behind a wall, rolling with practiced ease. A Legionnaire followed her, raising its repulsor level with her face. She snarled and leapt out of the way, kicked off the wall and wrapped herself around its head and upper torso. Wincing, she dug the claws of one hand into a weak spot at the shoulder joint, and used her other hand and teeth to mangle the wires running up its neck. It thrashed, launching itself into the main living area 25 feet in the air. She barely saw the team of heroes scattered across the room, fighting for their lives.   
With a savage yank, Marilyn jerked her neck backwards, taking the robots central nervous system with her. It plummeted.  
“MARILYN!”  
Still with the metal and wires clenched in her teeth, Marilyn pushed off from the bot, executing a perfect backflip and landing cat-like on her feet. As she did so, the last hostile crumbled, courtesy of Captain America. She moved quickly nearer to the center, where Ultron had begun to pace.   
“That was dramatic. I’m sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think it through. You want to protect the world but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to evolve?” Ultron bent and picked up one of the destroyed legionnaires by the head. “With these? These puppets.” He squeezed it, crushing the head, then threw it away. “There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers’ extinction.”  
Marilyn had heard enough. Evidently, Thor had as well. Just as Ultron finished his final word, Mjolnir went crashing through him and the wall behind him, leaving a pile of mangled parts as the lights faded from his eyes. The voice continued grating on, just for a moment.   
“I had strings but now I’m free….”

The Avengers and their friends stood in the lab, surveying the wreckage and remains of Ultron’s attack.   
“All our work is gone. Ultron cleared out. He used the Internet as an escape hatch.”  
Bruce’s words drifted around Marilyn as she stood at the edge of the room. Her dress was a dirty, tattered mess, and her hair was wild. Her bare feet stung inexplicably, but she ignored it, firmly focused on the building tension in the room. Steve was seething. Tony was in shock. The others were calculatingly quiet.   
“Ultron…” Steve muttered.  
“He’s been in everything. Files, surveillance.” Natasha turned from the computer and leaned against the desk, crossing her arms over her gray hoodie. “Probably knows more about us than we know about each other.”  
Rhodey walked forward, holding his arm. “He’s in your files, he’s in the Internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?”  
Maria Hill looked up from where she was plucking slivers of glass from the bottoms of her feet. Huh… I should have stepped on a few of those… “Nuclear codes.”  
“Nuclear codes,” Rhodey agreed. “Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still can.”  
“Nukes?” Natasha asked. “He said he wanted us dead.”  
“He didn’t say dead,” Steve interrupted. “He said extinct.”  
Clint spoke up. “He also said he killed somebody.”  
“There wasn’t anyone else in the building,” Maria answered.  
Finally, Tony spoke, stepping into the center of the room and raising his handheld control. “Yes there was.” He flicked it, and a holographic image appeared. A mangled, jumbled mess of data and code. Jarvis….   
Bruce moved closer, lifting his hands in helpless confusion. “What… this is insane.”  
Steve spoke without looking up, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Jarvis was the first line of defense. He would have shut Ultron down, it makes sense.”  
“No,” Bruce said firmly. “Ultron could have assimilated Jarvis. This isn’t strategy, this is… rage.”  
Loud, thumping footsteps announced Thor’s arrival as he strode through the hologram and caught Tony by the throat, lifting him off his feet.  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”  
“It’s going around…” Great, Barton, sarcasm. Lovely choice. Marilyn took a few tentative steps back.  
“Come on, use your words buddy,” Stark strained.  
“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark.”  
Steve interjected, stepping forward commandingly. “Thor! The Legionaire.”  
The Asgardian dropped Tony on his feet, allowing him to stumble away. “Trail went cold about 100 miles out, but it’s headed north. And it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it, again.”  
“Genie’s out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.” Natasha said.   
“I don’t understand.” Helen Cho spoke up from beside the remains of a Legionaire. “You wrote this program.” She turned. “Why is it trying to kill us?”  
Then, Tony laughed. Laughed. At the sound of her question he had turned his back on the room, bowing his head. Then, unrestrained chuckles began to curl around his now quaking shoulders. The entire room turned ice cold as tensions rose even higher, and every occupant turned to stare – or glare, in some cases – at the billionaire. Bruce began shaking his head, trying to shut him up.  
“You think this is funny?” Thor’s voice was low, threatening.   
Tony turned. “No… It’s probably not, right?” He surveyed the room, as if looking for approval. Every statement sounded like a question. “This is very terrible. Is it so… Is it so – it is. It’s so terrible.” Laughter accented his insincerity.  
“This could have been avoided if you hadn’t played with something you don’t understand.” Thor sounded like he was speaking to a child, soft and exasperated.   
No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it is funny.” Tony moved to stand toe-to-toe with the warrior. If this went on too long, it was going to get ugly. “It’s a hoot that you don’t get why we need this.”  
“Tony, maybe this might not be the time…” Bruce said carefully.  
“Really?” Tony turned to the doctor with disdain in his face.   
Marilyn hackles rose. This man… She owed him her life, but here he was, in all his arrogant, bastard glory, trying to explain away the destruction he had caused.   
“That’s it? You just roll over, show your belly every time somebody snarls?”  
Bruce’s caution turned to cool sarcasm, with eyebrows raised. “Only when I’ve created a murder bot.”  
“We didn’t! We weren’t even close. Were we close to an interface?”  
Bruce pressed his lips together and shrugged.  
“Well you did something right. And you did it right here.” Steve moved in, dropping his arms. “The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD.”  
“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?”  
“No, it’s never come up,” Rhodey shook his head.  
“Saved New York? Recall that?”  
“Never heard that.”  
“A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We’re standing 300 feet below it.” Tony paused. “We’re the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but that up there, that’s… That’s the endgame. How were you guys planning on beating that?”  
Steve looked almost sad. “Together.”  
“We’ll lose.”  
“Then we’ll do that together too.” Steve moved away and raised his voice, addressing the room. “Thor’s right. Ultron’s calling us out. And I’d like to find him before he’s ready for us. The world’s a big place. Let’s start making it smaller.” He finished, turned and surveyed the room, then turned to Marilyn. “You alright?”  
She rubbed her upper arms, relaxing a bit. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”  
Clint stood and stretched. “You’ve got some moves, missy. How did that whole, ripping-the-central-nervous-system-out-with-your-teeth thing work out for you?”  
The rest of the Avengers turned to her, eyebrows raised. Steve gave her a tired little grin.  
She shrugged. “Hydra experiment, remember? So, I’ve got some hidden talents.”  
Clint grinned a bit. “Talents, my ass. You’re Enhanced, aren’t you?”  
Marilyn stuck her chin out. “So what if I am?”  
He shrugged. “Cool. Welcome to the team.”  
“No,” Steve said firmly. “You’re going back to your safe house.”  
Meeting his eyes, she gave him an incredulous look, a fond glimmer in her eye. “You can’t protect me forever, Tevers.” She patted his cheek, then sidestepped his huge frame. “I’m a part of this now.”  
Clint held up a hand. “Hold up, hold up. Tevers?”  
Marilyn heard Steve slump and groan behind her. She winked. “Only I get that privilege. Sorry, Barton.”  
He chuckled. “Clint, please.”  
Suddenly, Natasha interrupted. “Marilyn, you’re bleeding.”  
“What?”  
“Your feet.”  
Everyone looked down. Bloody footprints glared up at them from the dirty floor, tracing her path since the attack. She lifted one foot, leaning carefully against Steve and grimacing. “Oh… God.”  
The sole of her foot was a mangled, dripping mess, embedded with dozens of shards of jagged glass. The other one was the same. Now that she knew, she suddenly felt burning fiery pain lancing through her leg. “Ahh…. That’s ugly.”  
Steve quickly guided her to a chair and sat her down. Maria scooted her chair over with the tweezers she had been using. “Damn… How did you not feel that?”  
“Well… When you’ve felt the worst pains in the world, I guess you stop caring about the little ones…”

Marilyn spent the next couple of hours in the lab, being patched up by Dr. Cho before she left for her own facilities in Seoul. Finally, she stood on her own and made her way to where the Avengers had gathered. Steve had just handed a tablet to Thor.   
“What’s this?” Tony asked.  
“A message,” Steve answered. Thor slammed the tablet into Tony’s chest, accenting Steve’s newest discovery. “Ultron killed Strucker.”  
Tony turned it and gazed at the morbid picture of a man’s corpse, with the word peace smeared across the wall behind him in his own blood. “And he did a Banksy at the crime scene, just for us.”  
Natasha interjected. “This is a smoke screen. Why send a message when you’ve just given a speech?”  
Marilyn looked up at Steve. “Intel.”  
Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss.”  
“Yeah, I bet he –“ Natasha was interrupted by the computer beeping. “Yeah. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased.”  
“Not everything,” Steve responded.   
The Avengers looked at him questioningly. Smiling, Marilyn raised her eyebrows. “Old-fashioned way?”  
“Exactly.”  
Soon, the room was covered in dozens of file boxes. Each hero dug painstakingly through the files. Even in the face of the situation, Marilyn had to smile. These people had relied solely on technology for years. Now, in the face of hard copy files and a pen and paper, they looked agitated and lost. But Marilyn and Steve? They were in their element.   
“Steve.” Marilyn tossed him a file, then ducked as yet another box lid went flying over her head. Obviously, reading was not Thor’s strong suit.   
“Known associates… Baron Strucker had a lot of friends.” Steve passed it along.  
Bruce skimmed through the profiles. “Well, these people are all horrible.”  
“Wait.” Tony held out a hand to stop him. “I know that guy.” He took the file, examining the photo. “From back in the day. He operates off the African coast. Black market arms.” At Steve’s accusing glare, he continued to explain huffily. “There are conventions, all right? You meet people. I didn’t sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game-changer. It was all very Ahab.”  
Thor pointed at something in the picture. “This?”   
“Ah, it’s a tattoo, I don’t think he had it.”   
Marilyn drew closer, peering at the photo.  
Thor pointed. “No, those are tattoos, this is a brand.”  
The computer beeped rhythmically as is searched for the strange rune. Then, it came up with a match. Bruce spoke up. “Oh, yeah. It’s a word in an African dialect meaning thief, in a much less friendly way.”  
“What dialect?”  
“Wakanada, w-wa-Wakanda.”   
Steve and Tony looked at each other gravely. Tony spoke first.  
“If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…”  
“I thought your father said he got the last of it.”  
Bruce stood. “I don’t follow, what comes out of Wakanda?”  
Turning, Steve lead their gazes to his shield, sitting on the floor behind them. Tony answered for him. “The strongest metal on earth.”  
“Where is this guy now?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I'll try to update more often. This chapter is totally complete, but I want y'all to have something lol. I'm running out of buffer chapters, so I'll have to keep working on the new ones.

Marilyn sat in the quinjet, resisting the powerful urge to pace. The team had gone in almost blind to the tanker where their target resided, and Steve had forced her to stay behind with Dr. Banner. Now, he was her only silent company as they listened to the sounds of combat through the comlinks.   
“… I’m sure they’ll be alright. They always are.”  
Marilyn looked up to see the doctor looking sympathetically at her. “… This isn’t always.”  
“Yeah, but, that’s usually the mantra I tell myself on these missions.”  
She smiled softly. “I suppose this is familiar to you.”  
“All too familiar.” He stood. “It’s strategy. Just how it goes.”  
Looking up at him, she furrowed her brow. “It’s… agonizing, isn’t it? Knowing you could help in, or even win, the fight, but you’re stuck here. Sitting, listening to them duke it out with some huge threat. If something happened… If someone got hurt, and I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve helped…” She dropped her head in her hands, mumbling through them. “Steve is all I have left….”  
After a moment, he knelt in front of her and took her hands hesitantly in his own. “Not anymore.”  
She smiled, but the moment was quickly extinguished by the sounds of battle escalating. Bruce stood. “Guys? Is this a code green?”  
The muffled, garbled audio could have been anything. Nevertheless, he nervously hit the button to lower the gangway.   
“Dr. Banner?” Marilyn rose slowly. New smells flooded the jet and washed over her. Dust, oil, smoke, metal, and something uniquely African.  
He made his way down the ramp and leaned on the entrance, gazing out to where the sounds of gunfire could be heard.  
Marilyn could see him tensing. She could smell his fear. “Let me go with you.”  
“No. Stay here.”  
“I can help!”  
“Sorry, Marilyn. Cap said you’re staying put.” He began to walk down the ramp, out into the open air. His fists clenched as he braced for what was to come.  
Then, a new scent accosted Marilyn’s nostrils, sending ice into her heart. “Wait… Wait!!” A red and blue blur whizzed out of nowhere, and stopped next to him. A girl, dressed in red, with flames in her hand, gestured by his head.   
Marilyn took off down the ramp, leaping at the girl, but the man with her vanished, then reappeared as she flew back with the force of his punch. She jumped to her feet, crouching with claws and teeth bared, but it was too late. Bruce began to convulse, and the two Enhanced, the Maximoffs, were gone in another gust of wind.   
“Dr. Banner!”  
He groaned in response, holding his head. His body jerked and writhed.  
“… Bruce?”  
He screamed, then roared as he quadrupled in size and turned bright green. The Hulk had been unleashed. But this time, he had that witch in his mind.   
“Oh no…” Marilyn sprinted back to the jet. “The Hulk is loose, I repeat the Hulk is loose! That Maximoff girl got to him, I don’t know what she did, but he just lost it! I’m in pursuit!” Without waiting for an answer, Marilyn sprinted down the ramp, spreading her wings and preparing to leap into a takeoff.   
Then, another gust of wind buffeted her back, and the last thing she saw was the glowing red eyes of Wanda Maximoff. 

Darkness. The squeeking of rusty wheels. Bucky's tortured face. Scenes of her Hydra imprisonment flashed before her eyes. Pain erupted from the injection sites once again. She thrashed against the leather restraints that kept her flat on the cold metal table. Zola... Zola's face flickered before her eyes. The pain rushed inward, coiling in her belly like venomous serpent that constricted her insides in its fatal coils.  
Then darkness again.  
Swing music played loudly around her. She looked around in dazed confusion. It was crowed, but excitingly so. It was her favorite dance hall, on a Saturday night. She was wearing her favorite dancing dress, and her hair was tied back neatly. She rolled her shoulders, relishing the familiar feeling of the smooth fabric. Best of all, no apparatus. No ugly life support harness hindering her movements or showing through her clothes. And at her side: the one and only Bucky Barnes, dressed to the nines in his sharp uniform and neatly styled hair. He was smiling at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the room.   
“What say we dance, doll?” He spun her onto the dance floor. This was… her perfect night. Dancing, at home, in her soldier’s arms. The song switched to a slow, romantic number. Bucky drew her closer, encircling her waist with one strong arm, and pulling her face closer to his.  
“You look beautiful.”  
“Bucky…” He stopped her with a small shake of his head and that cocky grin she loved so much. He touched her face in a soft caress, then pulled her in closer as if to kiss her.   
Her smile widened, and she felt a familiar snick. No. His loving expression turned to horror. No, no, NO!  
He pushed her away in disgust. “What are those?? Your teeth… and your eyes! Marilyn what happened to you??”  
She buried her face in her hands, trying desperately to reverse the changes, to stow them away. She felt a stinging in her face. Her claws had made an appearance, too. The atmosphere in the room began to change as more and more people noticed her distressing alterations. The harness appeared, snaking obviously around her head and torso. Screams erupted from the women as the dancers formed a horrified circle around her. But, the people outside the circle continued dancing, almost violently, as if nothing were wrong.  
Finally, her wings burst through the back of her dress, ruining it. Tears coursed down her face as she dropped to her knees. “No… no… please…. Bucky…” All she could see was his face as he backed away from her.  
“Oh my god…”  
“What happened?”  
“What is she?”  
“She’s some kind of freak!”  
The music got louder.  
Freak.  
The shrieks of joy from the dancers mingled and mixed with the shrieks of horror from the circle.  
Freak.  
The dreaded word echoed around the room, ringing in her head and reverberating in her chest. She held her head, sobbing, until finally, the word found its way to Bucky’s lips.  
“… freak…”  
A tormented, animalistic howl erupted from her throat. “NOOOOOO!!!”  
Then, darkness once more. 

The jet was silent. A horrible, heavy, sorrowful silence. Everyone sat and stared at nothing. Marilyn rubbed absently at the bandages on her face and arms – she had been found on the ground outside the jet, crying and clawing at herself. She felt empty. Cold. And it seemed everyone else did too. The Maximoff witch had gotten to all of them. All except Clint and Stark. Clint was the only one who seemed remotely ok. Steve… He just stood there, stone-faced and staring at nothing. Marilyn could only imagine what he had seen.   
So, there, in silence, she drifted off to sleep, continually tortured by the sight of Bucky’s terrified face. 

A gentle hand shook her shoulder. “Hey, we’re here.” Clint’s face swam, then focused in front of her. Groggily, she nodded and stood, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She felt like death itself, and from the looks of it, no one felt any better.  
One by one, they all exited the jet, greeted at once by warm sunshine and a cute little farm house, the classic American dream. Marilyn breathed deeply, relishing the gentle air, and the green, moist scents of the little farm. Then… Humans? Three, distinct but similar, human scents hit her nose. Two smelled like Clint. Could… no… really? Was this… Clint’s house?  
The Avengers all filed into the sweet little house. Clint called from the door. “Honey? I’m home.” Called it.   
A pretty woman came around the corner, with long brown hair and a swollen belly. She’s pregnant…   
Clint grinned sheepishly. “Hi. Company. Sorry, didn’t call ahead.” Marilyn’s suspicions were confirmed as the woman stepped into his embrace and kissed him lovingly.   
Tony turned to Thor. “This is an agent of some kind.”  
Clint turned with his arm around her. “Gentlemen, and lady, this is Laura.”  
She waved shyly. “I know all of your names,” she chuckled. “Except…?”   
“Oh, this is Marilyn.” Clint gestured to her. “She’s a new addition.”  
The awkwardness radiating off of the four men next to her almost made Marilyn laugh. “Nice to meet you, Laura,” she said softly.  
Suddenly, quick, running footsteps echoed through the house. “Ooh, incoming.” Clint stepped forward and bent at the waist. Two young children, no older than 12, came running around the corner. Marilyn smiled at the fond reunion as Clint scooped his daughter into one arm and wrapped the other around his son.   
“These are… smaller agents…” It seemed she was the only one who had caught on.  
The little girl piped up as her father placed her on the floor. “Did you bring Auntie Nat?”   
Clint punctuated the question with an exaggerated gasp. Marilyn saw the empty, haunted look on Natasha’s face ease as she raised her head with a smile and stepped out. “Why don’t you hug her and find out?” Laughing, Clint watched as the little girl leapt into Natasha’s arms.   
Finally, Steve found his voice. “Sorry for barging in on you.”  
“Yeah, we would’ve called ahead but we were busy having no idea that you existed.” Tony agreed, with his usual flair.  
“Yeah, well, Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off SHIELD’s files, I’d like to keep it that way. I figure it’s a good place to lay low.”  
In the next few minutes, the team’s act crumbled. Thor left, Steve stepped out, and the others slumped. Marilyn resisted the urge to sink onto the plush couch in exhaustion. In her struggle to stay steady, she almost missed the little girl now standing in front of her.   
“Are you an Avenger too?”  
Raising her eyebrows, Marilyn looked down at the massive eyes, much like her father’s, that were staring up at her. “Well…” she glanced at Clint, then Natasha. “I guess I am. But I haven’t exactly been very good at avenging.”   
“Why not?”  
“Lila…”  
“It’s ok, Clint. Really, it is.” She gestured to the couch. “May I sit?”  
Laura nodded, smiling.  
Sinking down, Marilyn looked at the girl again. “Well… I went on my first mission, and I messed up. I got beat.”  
“Oh…” the girl climbed up to sit beside her. “Well, that’s ok. Daddy gets beat, too!”  
“Oh, come on!” The women laughed at Clint’s indignant cry. Marilyn leaned back into the cushions, chuckling. This… this was what she had always wanted. What she thought she would have. And it was the first place that she felt she could physically relax, since that night at Stark’s party. Her mind, however, was anything but at peace.   
“Lady? Why are you crying?”  
Marilyn snapped back to reality and rubbed her eyes. “Am I? I must be more tired than I thought.” She gave the little girl a forced smile. “And my name is Marilyn, not lady.” She tapped her little nose with a finger, making her giggle.   
Reluctantly, Clint released his wife. “C’mon, Marilyn, I’ll show you where you can kip for a bit.”  
Pushing herself to her feet, Marilyn shot him a wry smile. “Kip? What, are you from the 40s or something?”  
“Har har.” He led her upstairs, deeper into the house, to a small guest bedroom. “It’s not much…”  
She held up a hand to stop him, smiling. “It’s perfect. More than I could ask for. Thank you.” Stepping through the doorway, she wrung her hands a bit, betraying her anxiety.  
Clint noticed. “You ok?”  
Absentmindedly, she started to drag her teeth across her bottom lip, then quickly stopped. “Yes… No. No, I’m not.”  
Clint sighed, leaning on the doorframe. “Punk got you good, huh?”  
“Yeah…” She dropped onto the bed. “I… um… I had nightmares about it and… well, it’s… kind of consuming me.”  
“Yeah, we all took a hit… Look, Mar – can I call you Mar? I’ve always liked nicknames.”  
Marilyn smiled a bit, glancing up at him through her hair. “Like Nat for Natasha, right? Heh, it’s fine. That’s actually what Steve calls me. Nickname from… back in the day.”   
After a moment, Clint knelt in front of her. “Look, Mar, I know you probably don’t wanna talk about it, but when you do, I’m here. And so is Steve, Nat, Tony, Laura, if you want. We’re a mess right now, but we’re going to be there for each other when it comes down to it. Ok?”  
Wordlessly, she nodded. Clint chucked her under the chin, making her giggle a bit. “Good girl.”  
“I’m not one of your kids, Barton,” she teased half-heartedly.  
He stood, spreading his hands. “There she is. Seriously though, we’re all here. Now, you hop in the shower. You stink.” He ignored her protruding tongue and strolled through the door. “I think Laura’s got some old clothes you can borrow, or we’ll raid Nat’s drawer.”  
Marilyn smiled, genuinely. “Thank you, Clint.”  
He saluted, then vanished down the hall, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She shook her head and stood, forcing her mind to go blank. Shower, sleep. Those are my priorities. Stepping into the little bathroom, she shut the door behind her and carefully stripped down to her undergarments, then twisted the handle to turn on the water. The glimpse she caught of herself in the mirror startled her. Slowly, she forced herself to turn and face it.  
A young woman stared back at her, with long, dark, tangled hair, and a dirty face. Her cheeks were scarred, and her eyes haunted. Her body was thin, but strong, like a whip. A scarred, battle-worn whip. Her life support wound around her like a snake, a mechanical monster, something straight out of the Future exhibit at the World Fair. It was the only thing that gave her away as… unnatural. If she concentrated, she could pretend it was never there.   
The mirror began to fog over, breaking her trance. She finished undressing and stepped in – dwelling wouldn’t do anyone any good. Breathing deeply, she relished in the sensation of the grime of days washing away. She lathered her hair and her body, then rinsed. Finally, when she remembered the amount of people that would all be sharing one hot water tank, she grudgingly stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel.  
A neatly folded stack of clothes sat on the bed. Marilyn wrapped her hair in the towel and began trying on various outfits. She decided on plain light blue skinny jeans and a light pink tank top, topped by a patterned, oversized cardigan. Her feet stayed bare, as per usual. As if on cue, someone knocked at the door.  
“Marilyn? It’s Laura. I just came up to check on you.”  
Unwinding the towel and allowing her wet hair to fall around her shoulders, Marilyn called, “Come on in.”  
The door opened to reveal Clint’s smiling wife. “Find something that fits? Oh, you look precious! I love it.”  
“Thank you very much, for everything, really. It’s far more than we could have asked for.”  
Laura waved dismissively. “Come on, it’s the least I can do.” She paused. “How are you feeling?”  
Marilyn nodded slowly. “Better. It’s amazing the difference being clean can make…”  
Laura stayed quiet, examining her with a mother’s eye.  
“Clint said something, didn’t he?”  
“He said you all took a hit. And he said that this was your first time with the Avengers.”  
“Partially true. I fought with Steve and Natasha during the fall of SHIELD. This was my first time with the whole team, and my first time up against something this… big.”


End file.
